Walking Dead Never Ever

I Never…

The house fire was only able to warm her for a few minutes, before the oncoming threat of walkers made Daryl grab her arm and turn to leave. But the alcohol still sang in her veins, and the warmth she felt inside was something that she knew would lead to more trouble, if it didn't fade away too quickly. Her head spun as they moved through the forest; it was much harder to keep her feet straight and steady than normal… she hadn't felt it when they'd been sitting talking, and the joy as they worked to spread the liquor through the house had disguised it. A few more minutes and they came to a stop. Another house sat in front of them, rising up from the woods. Where the last one had been… what had Daryl called it?... Trash, this one reminded her of her home. "C'mon" He told her, moving to a side door of the house.

When they entered, it was empty and dark. "Another place with Michonne?' She asked him, giggling a little at the way her tongue felt funny, fighting to make the words come out clearly.

"Yeah." He told her, going to check the house; he was back quickly, they had made it secure the last time they were through, and none of their modifications were tampered with. Settling himself on one of the couches, he grabbed a bottle of water and took a swig, before tossing it to Beth. "Drink some, and search for some Tylenol or shit. You're gonna feel this in the morning."

"Yes Mister Dixon." She told him. She meant to joke, but the fire affecting her veins must also be affecting her vocal cords, what she said came out lower and deeper than she ever expected.

Daryl closed his eyes at that "Just go" He told her, closing his eyes and fighting hard to not show a reaction to her.

She wandered away from him then, before making her way to the downstairs bathroom. It was picked clean, at least of anything she needed. After finding clean water in the back of the toilet, she grabbed a washcloth and used it to wipe as much of the ick off her as she could. Just getting the layer of grime and sweat off her left her feeling better.

The master bathroom upstairs was empty too, but growing up in a house full of women had taught her a few tricks for finding hidden pills. She made her way over to the master bedside table and opened it up. "Guys side." She said, taking in the car magazines, lube and flashlight. Walking around to the other side of the bed, the far table cabinet opened up to reveal what she had hoped to find. A bottle of Advil rested on top of a romance book, and Beth blushed at seeing the condoms and 'helps' shoved in the back. She grabbed the book and the bottle, and made her way back downstairs.

Casting a quick look at Daryl, he was taking stock of the supplies in their bag, and doing God knows what with the crossbow, she made her way into the kitchen. There was still some food to be found, nothing that anyone would want to eat; but a can of beans and some stale crackers would keep their stomachs full another day, so that was something at least. The cabinet above the fridge yielded a better return to her though. Behind the cookbooks and random kitchen gear a bottle of scotch sat half full. "Score." She said, grabbing it and bringing it back with the food.

"Ain't you done with that yet?" Daryl asked her, as he took in her happiness at finding more booze.

"No, and neither are you." She told him happily. When he shook his head at her, she continued. "One night Daryl. That's all." She shook her head and sat down on the couch next to him. "We gotta go back to fighting to survive tomorrow. But the way I see it is we're in a house that's locked up, with nothing to do till the daylight comes, and I ain't ready to say goodbye to this feeling yet."

He looked down at the floor at that.

"Please." She told him, close to begging but not quite there yet.

"Fine." He told her, grabbing the bottle and looking it over. "12 year scotch? Shit this stuff'll empty your wallet before you're even right drunk in the old days."

"Then I guess that means it's a good thing it was free for us." She told him.

"Where'd you find it anyways? We cleared this house of all that before." He asked her.

"You knew where your house had the still, I know where my house hides the liquor." She giggled. "Never watched a show where they hid it on top of the fridge?" She teased.

"Guess not." He laughed. Maybe there was still some alcohol in his system too, though clearly not as much as Beth's. He opened up the bottle and took the first swig. It burned going down, but left a pleasant taste he wasn't used to with his homegrown brews.

Beth took it from his hands and passed it between hers a couple times before taking a swig. It stung, but she was pleased with herself she didn't show it, other than in a hitch in her breath. She giggled again. Maybe she was showing she was drunk a little, but she didn't really care. "I never got drunk before." She passed him the bottle.

"This again?" He asked her, but at her dancing eyes, he decided it was worth it. "I never… shit I done a lot of things… I never… "

"C'mon Daryl, ya gotta say something or ya gotta take a penalty drink!"

"Fine!" He told her, thinking quickly. "I never kissed a boy." And passed her the bottle, which she took a drink of.

"I never nearly got shot by a tweaker." She told him, smiling and passing him the bottle

"Cheater. You just know that 'cause I just told ya"

"Still counts." She told him, laughing.

"Damn." He told her, taking his sip while she worked to stop laughing. He kept on thinking, trying to come up with something that he could say, but damned if everything he could think of was either too lame or too dirty. He was having enough problems keeping from noticing the way Beth's body was touching his, bring that into it wouldn't help things.

"Drink up!" She told him, passing the bottle back to him. "Time penalty for not saying anything."

"No fair, I thought of stuff, just couldn't say any of it." He answered, before taking his drink. There wasn't a burn to it now, and he was taking smaller sips; he needed to be at least marginally functional.

"What was it?" She asked, taking the bottle from him "I still want to play."

"Not telling, ya too young." He told her, shaking his head and brushing down his hair.

"Daryl Dixon I ain't too young." She told him, trying to get him to open up. "Least not by these world's standards."

"Well by my standards." He told her, taking another sip just to try and end the conversation.

"Well not by mine." She told him, moving on the couch so she was kneeling next to him rather than sitting on the other side of the couch. "Look at me." She told him, and waited until he eyes had traveled over the rest of the room and finally, finally connected with hers. "If I'm old enough to be eaten by the dead come walking, I'm old enough to play a drinking game with no limits." She whispered. Her voice had done that low sinky thing, she didn't like it; but since it was obviously affecting the man sitting next to her, she decided to work with it. "My standards say I'm old enough to do anything I damn well please."

Daryl shifted at that, uncomfortable and praying that the drunken haze she was in hid some of his body's reactions. "Fine." He muttered softly, not sure what else to say but hoping like hell she would just go back to her end of the couch. "I never had anything but one night stands." He whispered, waiting to see just what her reaction would be.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do." She whispered, after a moment of silence and thinking, before grabbing the bottle and taking a drink. "None of the boys I dated were one night stands, even if we never got to the level I assume you're talking about." She blushed bright red at that, and the warmth that flooded her stomach moved up and seemed to fill her everywhere. "Well, in that case… I never had sex with anybody." She passed the bottle back to him, feeling the shift the game had taken, and worked to stop her hands from shaking.

He sat silently for a minute, before taking his sip for her never, and following it with another. "I never felt this before." He whispered, before taking another sip and passing it back to her.

At that point, the haze that clouded her mind cleared enough for Beth to see she was clearly standing at a precipice. Push the wrong way, too hard or too fast, and the fire inside her would burn her to ash. But stay where she was, locked in this moment, and the fire would burn out leaving her with nothing.

Ashes or nothing?

She stayed, for perhaps a moment too long, before she started breathing again. When she came to, she realized Daryl was shifting on the couch, preparing to walk away. "Daryl wait." She said, grabbing his hand, knocking over the bottle so that the small amount left inside it dribbled out.

"I think we're done for the night." He told her, not really trying but making a show, of trying to let go of her hand.

"I'm not." She told him honestly, standing to move next to him.

"Games' over." He said, motioning to the lonely bottle on the floor.

"Then let's not play games anymore." She told him, letting go of his hand to place it on her hips and jutting out her right side in a way that meant nothing to her, but everything to him.

"You don't know what you're saying." He told her, turning away from her but not walking away.

The false courage the bottle had given Beth gave her more than just the ability to touch him, it gave her the ability to see him, in a way she never had before. He was turned away from her, yes; but wasn't leaving her. He was unwilling to take the first step, but not willing to truly end things. This was her moment, if she decided to take it.

She did.

Grabbing on to his shoulders, she moved her hands, first up to stroke his neck gently, before following his shoulders down and grabbing both his hands. She could lightly feel them trembling. She stepped up close to him at that point, close enough to smell the leather of his vest and the mix of salt and sweat and man beneath it. Close enough for him to feel her body heat through it all, and lose that little bit more of his self-control. "Beth." He spoke roughly, his voice lower and more gravely than she had ever heard it. The reverberations of it went through his back and straight to her, it made her already humming nerves sing. She wasn't quite tall enough to reach where she wanted to, so she settled for moving around him so that she faced him; his eyes were closed and his breathing hitched. Seeing the power the moments leading up to this had on him left her feeling ready for anything.

Grabbing onto his hand, she lead him to the staircase, before he paused. "Beth what are we.."

"We're changing one of my 'nevers'." She told him, in that low voice that seemed to completely replace her usual voice.

He wanted to say no. It wasn't his place. She wasn't his girl. She deserved more than just him, and the lousy moves he'd never had the urge to finesse. But for such a small hand she had a really strong grip, or he had a really weak will. He suspected it wasn't her.

Seeing the bed brought him back to his senses though. "Beth I can't." He told her, trying to stop something that felt like it had been put in motion long before just this.

"You can." She answered back. "You're who I want." She reached for him them, grabbing onto his shoulders and pulling him down to her level. "I've lost control of everything in this world. I've lost my home, my family, hell, even my future. But this? This moment I have control. I have a choice. And I'm making it."

There wasn't anything he could say to that, and something in his eyes' must have given it away; her eyes changed from searching and needy, to charged, and excited. Stepping back from him, she reached for the hem of her shirt, and slowly pulled it up and over her body. Breathing deeply, she looked him in the eyes, and waited.


End file.

Walking Dead, Romance